Snowball
by Martine Brooke
Summary: There are happy days, even in hell. Captivity-verse. A bit fluffy.
1. Abby

Stacking plates and cutlery on one hand and putting the lid on the butter with the other, Abby tidied the breakfast table in near-darkness and started an inventory. _We're running out of butter. And that nice pasta mix from what we had last night. And we're low on fish, if Henry seriously wants to go fishing again in these temperatures. Why won't he just pick up meat from the mainland? Do we eat so much fish because he wants to justify the constant fishing or does he enjoy making me pick small bones out of my dinner most nights? And some fruit would be lovely. And wine, if he'd let me have any alcohol. _He'd asked her to make a list of things they needed food-wise; he was going to the mainland either today or tomorrow to pick up a turkey and everything else they needed for what he called their "perfect Christmas together". _At least the meal will be fine. We are not having fish for Christmas dinner._

There were four full days left until Christmas morning and Abby had low expectations for this year. The tree was up and decorated, at least, and tinsel and paper-chains were tacked around the living room ceiling. The room looked far better in good light, when it wasn't so cold neither of them wanted to open the curtains. He'd seemed to enjoy sitting on the carpet in front of the fire with her, the furniture pushed back and paper-chains growing between them. Some days he'd scare her breathless and others he was no more than a child who wanted to spend a year with his best friend. _A year. That was forever to a nine-year-old girl. And now it really will be forever. He's far too far gone to take pity on me. And I'm far too far gone to finish this another way. _Her hand lowered to her abdomen and wondered for the thousandth time what was growing inside her. Immediately after all three tests had shown positive, Henry had decided they were having a son. She wasn't so sure. She wasn't even sure she wanted this child. Sometimes she'd wish that, if she had no choice about living here, she could remain in stasis until she finally got the courage to fly off the cliffs on one of her walks. Other times it would be a heavy guilt for bring a child into the hell in which she now lived. And sometimes she'd cry in the shower for some sane company so maybe a daughter of her own would be nice.

The plates now in a pile by the sink and butter and milk back in the fridge, she went back for the coffee cups. Looking up, she saw Henry standing just inside the door, arms devoid of the firewood he'd gone out for. Automatically she smiled at him. He wouldn't get angry if she didn't; he'd just ask what was the matter and attempt to cheer her up. So she smiled. He smiled back and she watched as his eyes travelled downwards through her robe and up again. At first she'd thought he was sick for lusting after her when he knew perfectly well she was his sister and tried calling him "brother". He'd laughed and called her "sister" for the rest of the day. She never did it again. Now she just wondered when he'd stop looking at her as if she was naked.

As she was about to ask if someone had stolen their firewood, he first moved quickly past her to the hallway, then came back to cup her face and press his lips to hers a few times.

"Wait here. Don't move," he demanded, before disappearing. She obeyed. She heard his footsteps as he sprinted across upstairs and wondered what he was doing and why she had to stay there. Usually if he was going up to their bedroom, he'd been dragging her with him. _So why am I standing here? Don't take me over the breakfast table again, please Henry, it's uncomfortable. _Her expectations were confirmed when something was pulled tight over her eyes and he held her wrists either side of her body. Pushing her forward, she moved blindly and cautiously up the stairs and into what she knew was their bedroom. She tried not to shiver as he let go of her and moved away. She heard the sounds of drawers opening, then the wardrobe.

"Put these on," he insisted, throwing what were obviously clothes at her. Underwear. Socks. Trainers. A top. A jumper. Jeans. A coat. Gloves. A scarf. A hat. "No, don't take the blindfold off. Put the clothes on."

_You're leading me to bed and telling me to put clothes on?_ She did exactly what he'd told her to do, of course. Whatever it was he was planning, it involved being dressed. _Maybe we're going fishing in the cold._ _Well, this day can't really get worse._ Feeling her way, she put the larger items down on the bed until she was ready for them and kicked off her slippers. She had to bite her tongue to stop from sobbing as she untied the robe and let it fall to the floor. It was the only part that never got any easier. Willingly taking her clothes off for Henry and pretending that she enjoyed his touch. Now she was desperate to dress quickly before he changed his mind. After a few minutes in which he chuckled as she pulled her jumper on back-to-front and she felt herself go red, he led her, still blind but now with clothes and shoes on, back downstairs.

The cold was a horrible shock as she stood outside, wondering what her captor had in mind and why the ground felt different beneath her. The answer came as something hard collided with the side of her face, nearly knocking her off her feet.

_He hit me. He hit me. He said he wouldn't hit me again. He promised. No, he promised he wouldn't hit me as long as I didn't do anything to make him hit me. What did I do? I didn't say anything wrong, did I? I didn't bring up anything that I shouldn't talk about anymore. I haven't refused him anything. Was it – No, he knows I wasn't saying "no" to him this morning. He knows it was "no" to the concept of moving the blankets because it would let the cold air in. What did I do? Henry, don't hit me, please. I'm pregnant. You shouldn't be hitting me._

Her thoughts cut off as she realised that, whatever it was that had hit her, it wasn't a fist and was now sliding wetly down her neck. Tears threatening to break through stopped in their progress, feeling a bit silly now.

"Take the blindfold off," his voice came from several feet away. She lifted it away from her eyes and gasped as she saw what lay in front of her. She looked to Henry, to his glowing face with his red nose and ears and cold white cheeks. He was laughing. "It snowed!"

"Oh," was all she could say as she looked around in disbelief. There was white even snow everywhere, glimmering as her eyes took it all in. The weak sunlight made the snow in the treetops glisten and the blanket on the ground came up at least a few inches around her feet. Aside from Henry's footsteps, it was undisturbed as far as she could see. The island looked magical and a small part of her mind could understand her captor's love for it.

"Come on! We're gonna build snowmen!" he said, taking her by the hand and leading her carefully through the trees. "It'll be like when you were a kid. You built snowmen, didn't you? I always wanted to do that with you. We'll make two. A couple. And we can put scarves on them and find little stones for eyes and mouths. It'll be fun!"

She couldn't speak as she walked under the leaves, the snow crunching underfoot and the cold breeze whipping around her face. Yes, she'd seen snow on Harper's Island before plenty of times but never in such a contrast to her normal life. The run up to Christmas was normally joyful. And Henry couldn't stop smiling and kissing her as they walked. His mood was infectious and she couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. He even stopped and waited as she wandered off to have a look at some deer tracks.

The afternoon was probably the happiest she'd had since September. Yes, he kissed her out in the fields as their snowmen took shape, long deep kisses with his hands up inside her top, but he was warm and it was cold and, if she closed her eyes and shut down her mind, she could imagine that she loved him. She told herself that he was simply a little boy who wanted to play in the snow. For a few hours they were children again and she was a girl spending all year alone on the island with her best friend.


	2. Henry

You stand outside on the patio, the door shut tight to avoid letting the heat out and the thick blue curtain fallen into place, looking out at the grey skies, choppy seas and a unadulterated blanket of snow from where you stand to the edge of the trees. A smile cracks across your face, the delighted happy smile that your wife likes, as you wonder if Christmas has come early. That's why it was so cold this morning. You were a little worried when you woke up this morning and the temperate seemed to have dropped ten degrees overnight. Not that it bothered either of you then, snuggled up together with the blankets, duvet and each other's body for warmth. It was only when you came downstairs to get the fire going that you decided it was too cold to open the curtains and disturb the layer of warm air they were holding in. Suddenly a domestic day sounded much better than locking Abby up briefly and heading back to the mainland to get a turkey and the trimmings for dinner in four days' time, as well as the rest of the food you so badly need. At least you bought her gifts a few weeks ago and they're hidden in the store room, along with a lot of other things you think it best she not handle. Like your boarding knife, the guns and ammo and a lovely longbow with arrows you stole from another abandoned house. She still thinks you're not getting her anything. As if you'd give her a bad Christmas.

You lift one foot and see the imprint below. The pure blanket of snow now has two footprints in it. You consider stepping back inside and telling Abby that there's enough firewood in the house to last you at least another two days without you crushing the layer of crystalline white all the way to the shed. She wouldn't do it. She won't go near the building, whatever you do. You cleaned the blood up and everything. And bought her her favourite perfume to say sorry for striking her. Although that really wasn't your fault, either time. She provoked you and she hasn't done it again since.

You wonder what it was like for her as a young girl. Did it snow in the winter then too? It must have, surely. Spending only summers with her, your bliss ending when the liars pretending to be your parents took you away from your soulmate each year, you never got to spend Christmas with her. Now you can. You can do anything you like with her now nothing and no one is in the way. You're perfect together and society's stupid rules shouldn't affect you. Here you can be husband and wife and no one will object. Here you'll raise the child she's giving you. Here you can play in the snow together like you should have done twenty years ago.

Stepping back inside and closing the door to hide her view, you see your wife clearing up from breakfast, her body wrapped up warmly in a dressing gown and her hair tucked back behind her ears, framing her beautiful pale face. She smiles when she notices you – how she loves you! – and you can't help but smile back. You take a closer look at her, wearing her slippers and robe and what you're sure is nothing underneath it. She can't come out like that. But you want the snow to be a surprise. Your plan is perfect and you rush past her and turn to go upstairs. But no – she looks so cute you have to go back to steal a few kisses from her soft lips. She presses them back against yours, sweet gentle kisses tasting of coffee. What you'd do without her kisses is something you can't bear to think about.

_Wait here. Don't move._

It takes only a few seconds to run into your bedroom, grab the thin scarf from the table and run back. She gasps when you loop it over her eyes and puts the mugs she was holding back down on the table. She loves it when you do this. In some respects, you completely underestimated your wife. You'll probably disappoint her now, leading her up to your bedroom and not making love to her. But you made love to her enough times this morning, having woken up with her body curled around you, pressed into yours, comfortable in your arms with her hair tickling your skin and her lips mere inches from yours. You really can't help yourself sometimes.

She genuinely can't see you walk close to her as she shrugs the robe off her shoulders, revealing her slim perfect body with the small bump forming between her hips. Your child. Growing inside Abby. You know you're having a son. There's no way you can justify it and neither of you will be able to until you get her to a clinic on the mainland, but you can just tell. A boy you'll bring up to be just like you. A boy you'll teach how to swim, to fish, to hunt. A boy your own father would be proud of. And you'll be a far better parent to him than everyone was to you. Your outstretched hand moves outwards but Abby can't see it stop a few inches from her waist, willing yourself not to delay the snow any longer by embracing her. How confused she looked when you told her to get dressed! You can't wait to see her face when you take the blindfold off and she sees how wonderful your island looks. It's a Christmas present come early for both of you, although you know it can't last because you're not sailing thirty-seven miles to get a turkey in this weather.

Having grabbed coat, hat, scarf and gloves from the stand in the hallway, you walk her outside and position her carefully on the patio so she doesn't slip and shut the door behind her. She still looks utterly bewildered; she's always been a little slow to catch on. A funny idea strikes you and you walk quietly away from her before bending down to scoop up and compact a handful of powdery snow. A snowball. Your aim is a little off and you hit the side of her face rather than her shoulder but it doesn't matter after she takes the blindfold off and her eyes glitter with happiness.

_It snowed!_

_Oh!_

_Come on! We're gonna build snowmen! It'll be like when you were a kid. You built snowmen, didn't you? I always wanted to do that with you. We'll make two. A couple. And we can put scarves on them and find little stones for eyes and mouths. It'll be fun!_

Her hand fits into yours as you walk side by side through the quiet forest. Aside from muted animal noises, it's silent. You can't remember ever seeing her this happy before. Her smile doesn't usually stretch that far across her face and you have to stop every few minutes to kiss her as you follow the familiar but unfamiliar-looking path up to the fields. Occasionally small clumps of snow fall to the forest floor as the wind knocks it off the tall branches surrounding you. So much snow. You'll find some fallen branches later for arms for your snowmen so they can hold hands like you and Abby are now. You've never wanted anything more than to be with this woman alone on this island. Life is exactly how you imagined it.

* * *

Yes I know. Fluff. And it's not the piece I said I'd write either. But there's early snow in the UK and I wanted to come up with a series of events that I could narrate from both POVs. Enjoy it anyway.

It's occurred to me that I need a name for this universe. It's just called "Captivity". This is set four days before "Gifts".


End file.
